


absolutely disgusting

by noahfronsenburg



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Gaping, Begging, Breathplay, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fingerfucking, Let Alphinaud Say Fuck, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Prostate Massage, Size Difference, Size Kink, Watersports, it's pee! it's fucking pee! that's all this is! it's pee!, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfronsenburg/pseuds/noahfronsenburg
Summary: Well.





	absolutely disgusting

**Author's Note:**

> i couldnt come up with a title and i just worked a 16hr shift so it is what it says on the got dam box.

“Don’t wake them,” Gaius whispers, his voice pitched as low as it can go. Alphinaud whispers something around the hand over his mouth that sounds suspiciously like _fuck you_ , but it’s hard to tell past the fingers shoved down his throat. It's easy enough to guess, though, because it must be hard for Alphinaud to keep it quiet every time Gaius curls the fingers of his other hand backward and drags his rim open as far as it will easily go, pulls them apart and stretches.

He’s got three fingers buried in Alphinaud’s slick hole up to the bottom knuckle, and Alphinaud, pinned to his chest, is clawing at his forearm and writhing like he’s about to die. His entire body is soaked in sweat, sticking to Gaius’ chest, his hair plastered to the side of Gaius’ neck. Alphinaud is so slim, so light, that he can fit on top of Gaius without even touching the sides of his chest on either side. The sheer physical _power differential_ they have is half of what has Gaius going, his cock hard and desperate where he’s got it still in his smallclothes, soaking the cotton with pre. The other half, of course, is the fact that Alphinaud has come three times, a sticky pool drying on the base of his stomach, matting his pubic hair.

He’s crying again, overstimulated and overwhelmed. Trembling, gasping and moaning when Gaius bends his fingers and starts grinding the backs of his knuckles into Alphinaud’s prostate again. Alphinaud arches his back, grinds his ass into the base of Gaius’ stomach, and _whines_. His cock, mostly soft, twitches, oozes another drop of pre, and the noise he makes rattles into silence as a high, wheezing sob that never makes it past the fingers down his throat. Gaius drags his teeth over the shell of one sharp ear, bites down gently. He can almost hear his own heartbeat with how bad he wants to get his cock inside his tight, hot hole. Pound Alphinaud, just like he begs for _every fucking night_ , until he can’t see straight.

Alphinaud bites down on his fingers, none too softly, and Gaius pulls his hand free, feels Alphinaud gag around the two fingers that have been hooked down past his tonsils, wheezing and gasping for breath. “Get in me,” he begs, his voice cracking an octave deeper than usual, “Get in me, get your cock in me, get your _fucking_ cock in me.” Alphinaud is pulling him free of his smallclothes, and when the cold night air hits the blood-hot, sopping tip of his erection Gaius can barely _see_ with how hard he is.

He swallows around the lump in his throat. He gasps.

Alphinaud’s slender, strong fingers, smooth from years wearing gloves and not turning pages of books, are grabbing at the head of his cock. They don’t fit all the way around, and the fact that Gaius knows this without looking from all the times that Alphinaud has ducked his head over his lap and knelt and pulled Gaius’ cockhead to his mouth, murmuring about how it’s bigger than his hand is, is going to do him in. He shudders, Alphinaud sliding downwards, one heel pressed into the meat of Gaius’ thigh for leverage and the other lifted in the air by Gaius’ hand under his knee, spreading him so _wide_ fucking open.

“Yes,” Alphinaud is murmuring, heated and rough, “Gods, I need—you have to, your fucking cock could kill me—“ and then he’s shifting again, pressing down, down, and Gaius barely manages to get his fingers out of Alphinaud’s hole, his rim popping and making both of them moan, before the head of his cock is pressing there instead, the muscle so tight it feels like it won’t fit.

Reflexively, Gaius wraps his hand over Alphinaud’s throat. It fits almost all the way around his neck.

Gaius squeezes, cuts his air off, to keep Alphinaud from screaming when the head of his cock pops in past Alphinaud’s rim. Beneath the meat of Gaius’ palm his throat vibrates, his nails digging into the side of Gaius’ hip, marking crescents there, as he clenches down so tight Gaius can’t see, his vision whiting out. Alphinaud is so tight, so fucking tight. He shouldn’t be this tight. Every night when Gaius fucks the back of his throat, Alphinaud fists himself, one narrow-wristed hand slid all the way inside his ass, and he can still hardly take three of Gaius’ fingers even afterward, let alone his entire cock. Size difference, Gaius is just so tall, and then Alphinaud's hips are so narrow, and—

Gaius presses his free hand atop the base of Alphinaud’s stomach, right above the bottom of his cock, into the top of his pubic bone, into the swell of his bladder where the press of the head of Gaius' erection is almost visible, and drags him down as far as he’ll go at this angle. This perfect angle, where the only place that Gaius’ cockhead can go is to kiss Alphinaud’s prostate. Gaius pulls back, drags him down again, exerting his full strength to crush the younger man’s sweet spot, already swollen and sore from Gods-knows-how-long of massaging it, of practically torturing him.

The only sound that comes out of Alphinaud’s open mouth is a wheezing little rattle of a whine, but he’s screaming, the vibrations locked down against the top of Gaius’ hand, until his air runs out. Then it’s just open-mouth agony, and his erection is so hard it looks painful, purple-tipped and dripping.

On the fifth thrust, the pressure is too much—speared from behind by the inexorable force of Gaius’ dick, bigger than Alphinaud’s ankle, and crushed from the front by the weight of his palm—and Alphinaud loses control of his bladder, pisses himself, shooting his stream to join the drying cum on his stomach. He’s crying, tears soaking Gaius’ chest hair, gasping for breath his lungs can’t get in past the hand on his throat, his entire face flushed as Gaius pushes down harder on his bladder, forces every last drop out until they’re both soaked in it, so he can feel the swell of his cockhead against the base of his palm.

By the eighth thrust, Alphinaud is so close (to orgasm, or blacking out, or both) that fucking him is like trying to fit into a vice, and Gaius curses under his breath and jerks as he spills, biting down _hard_ on the top of Alphinaud’s ear. He lifts his hand, hears Alphinaud gasp for air, desperately, his ragged throat wrung to bruising, to keep from passing out, and then Gaius presses it back down, cuts him off again.

“Yes?” He asks, chasing his high, desperate for Alphinaud’s approval, “May I?”

Alphinaud nods, and Gaius chokes his name, follows his orgasm by filling Alphinaud’s ass with his piss; hotter, smellier than Alphinaud’s. That’s what gets Alphinaud off, being filled up by Gaius’ urine, and he seizes as he comes, shooting all over the hand Gaius has pressed to his stomach, his blue eyes almost rolled back in his head in ecstasy, his face a vision of euphoria.

“Don’t pull out,” Alphinaud mutters, when he’s got his breath back, sprawled boneless in Gaius arms as they lay together on their sides, even as Gaius is gone mostly soft. “I want to keep it in there until we bathe.” He clenches gently, and Gaius pulls him back, slides his flaccid cock further into the other man, like a cork in the mouth of a wine bottle. He can never get this deep while hard; not without a lot more lube and a much better angle.

“What,” he asks, voice pitched low, as he nuzzles the top of Alphinaud’s head, “My piss or my cock?”

“Both,” Alphinaud says, with such contentment that it’s honestly a little hard to believe. Alphinaud presses a hand to the base of his stomach, makes a low noise. “I like being reminded what all you’re willing to do for a little... _encouragement_.”

Well.

He won't say no to that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter/masto @jonphaedrus


End file.
